


Further on Down the Line

by Jo (jmathieson)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captivity, Dubious Consent, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:19:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2752559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting captured on a mission leads to a compromising situation and some revelations for Clint and Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Further on Down the Line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladydeathfaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydeathfaerie/gifts).



Getting captured sucked.

Getting captured and stripped naked and tossed into a cell sucked more.

Getting captured with Coulson usually sucked a lot less, because the bad guys invariably under-estimated what the two of them were capable of, and so they generally managed to escape without too much trouble. 

But, as Clint was rapidly discovering, getting captured with Coulson and then hearing his handler getting beat up in the cell next to him, well, it turned out that that sucked a whole lot more.

Clint did another tour of his prison. They were in some kind of medieval castle-thing, and as far as he could tell the cell was original, complete with eight-foot high stone walls and iron bars on the thick wooden doors. He’d already climbed the walls to examine the ceiling, which appeared to have been carved out of the rock that the castle stood on, and offered no way out. He’d also tested each bar on the small window in the cell door, twice. Nothing budged. 

Looking out through it, he could see an expanse of dimly lit corridor and hear what was going on in Coulson’s cell, next door. The sounds alternated between demands for information (which Coulson was, of course, not giving them), punching, and the occasional soft grunt when Coulson couldn’t help himself. Or maybe he was just reassuring Clint that he was still alive, and conscious. Clint had listened intently for the first few minutes, checking to see if there was any kind of pattern to the noises Phil was making, because he wouldn’t put it past the man to signal while being tortured, but there was nothing, so instead he tried to tune it out.

Unsuccessfully. Coulson was his boss, his handler, and his friend, and listening to him being hit was high up on Clint’s list of least favorite ways to spend the afternoon. It wasn’t the first time, of course, and knowing them, it probably wouldn’t be the last. 

“Go get the other one,” a voice said, and Clint stood ready to make a break for it the moment his cell door opened. Unfortunately, when it did, two guys were pointing AKs at him, and a third ordered him to turn around and put his hands behind his back. Not seeing any way to make a move that didn’t end with being shot full of holes, Clint complied. A set of handcuffs were snapped around his wrists, and he carefully didn’t grin, even though he was still facing the wall. They were standard police cuffs, not even rigid-bar. Clint knew he could get out of them in less than 20 seconds, given the chance. 

The guard behind him finished with the cuffs and drove what was probably his elbow into the back of Clint’s head, making it snap forward and bounce off the stone wall. He followed that up with a vicious kick to Clint’s right knee. Any thoughts he had of making a break for it were now on hold until he wasn’t seeing stars. 

The guard dragged him out of the cell, carefully covered by the two with guns, and shoved him into the next one. 

Clint slitted his eyes to avoid giving away any reaction to the sight of Phil Coulson stripped naked and handcuffed to a chair, covered in blood and bruises.

“Now, if you don’t tell us what we want to know, we are going to start on your partner here, and believe me, what we’ve done to you will seem like a walk in the park.”

Clint was pretty sure Phil wouldn’t do anything stupid, be he had to make sure. He laughed.

“If you think threatening to hurt me is going to make him talk, you’re barking up the wrong tree. He’s not my partner, he’s my boss, and he hates my guts. He’d probably be happy if you killed me, just so he didn’t have to deal with me anymore.”

Clint was pretty sure Phil would go along with the game. It was a lot safer if the bad guys didn’t think they could use them against each other.

“Fuck you Barton,” Phil mumbled through swollen lips. 

“See, what did I tell you? Do whatever you want to me, he’s not gonna care.” The guards didn’t seem to be inclined to take his word for it, though, and one of them drove the butt of his AK into Clint’s stomach, doubling him over. 

He didn’t hear whatever Phil mumbled, but the guard who seemed to be in charge said, “Oh, is that right?” to Phil, and then to the other guards, “Bossman here says he’s not gonna talk. I’m pretty sure we can find a way to make him. It’s just a question of applying the right leverage. Work him over.”

Clint lost the next few minutes as three sets of fists and boots rained blows down on him. He tried to protect his balls by curling up, but apart from that there wasn’t much he could do. Fighting back would just make them mad, and Clint didn’t want to risk what might happen then. Not with Phil chained to a chair. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to keep up the act if they hurt Phil seriously. Speaking of which, he should let his handler know he was okay, so when one of the guards scored another particularly vicious kick on his sore knee, he yelped, and then swore.

“Fuck off you bastards.”

“What’s the matter Barton, can’t take a couple of punches?” Phil somehow managed to put a sneer into his voice.

“You can fuck off too, Coulson. It’s your fault we got captured, anyway.”

“Little late to be playing the blame game, isn’t it? You’re such a baby.” Clint was lying on the floor, curled in a ball, facing Phil. His keen eyes could see the glint in Phil’s. 

“Well, you’re an asshole.” Their argument giving him a breather from the beating, so Clint was happy to keep it up as long as the guards would let them.

“Suck my dick.” 

Clint was a little surprised at that from Coulson, but he tried not to let it show. “You wish,” he shot back. Despite the circumstances, it was actually kinda fun trading insults with Phil. Clint tried to think up a zinger for his next turn.

“That sounds like a capital idea,” said the head guard. “Get him over here, on his knees.”

‘Okay, this looks bad,’ thought Clint.

Two of the guards grabbed Clint under his armpits and hauled him to his knees, then dragged him over in front of Phil. 

“Aw, come on, guys. Don’t you think this is a little high school?” Clint got smacked in the back of the head with the butt of a gun for his trouble. ‘I’m gonna be on concussion watch for a week after this,’ he thought, and then dared to look up at Phil’s face. One of his eyes was practically swollen shut, and the other was half-closed, hiding his expression. Clint couldn’t help but glance down at Phil’s groin, where his cock lay flaccid between his spread legs in a tangle of dark hair.

“Okay guys, you’ve had your little joke,” Clint said. “Now - “ The head guard pulled a large silver revolver out of its holster, cocked it, and shoved the barrel against Clint’s temple. 

“If your mouth isn’t on his dick in five seconds, he’s going to be wearing your brains, got it?”

Clint didn’t say anything, since there didn’t seem to be anything to say. But he looked up at Phil again, hoping his handler had some idea, some way out of this… He felt Phil’s toe poking his knee. This time there was a distinct pattern that Clint recognized immediately. Phil was poking Morse code for “OK.” His eyes went wide, and he saw Phil glance sideways for just a fraction of a second. 

After almost ten years of working together, Clint was pretty good at reading Phil’s sidelong glances. In this case the message seemed to be, ’These guys are serious. Don’t die for this.’ And to reinforce Clint’s suspicion, the rhythm of Phil’s toe on his knee changed. Now he was tapping D-O- I-T.

“All right, all right. Fuck.” Clint shifted on his knees, wincing as he put weight on the one that had been kicked repeatedly, and bent his head down to Phil’s groin. The smell of Phil’s sweat and his musk filled Clint’s nose, and he had to stop himself from nuzzling Phil’s skin. This was so not the way he’d wanted this to happen.

And so, yeah, okay, he’d thought about it. Phil was gorgeous, kick-ass competent, and a great friend. Clint would had to have been straighter than one of his arrows not to have thought about it, and he wasn’t. He so totally wasn’t. So he’d thought about it. At night in his bunk when he was feeling lonely, and Phil had done something particularly bad-ass, or particularly thoughtful, Clint thought about what it might be like to grab the man and kiss him senseless. To hear him moan. To strip the tailored suit off him and lick every inch of his toned body. To get down on his knees and fill his mouth with Phil Coulson’s cock.

This was nothing like any of his fantasies. This was… this was making the best of a bad situation, and keeping them both alive long enough to either escape or be rescued. That was what the procedure manual said, and that was no doubt why Phil had told him to go ahead. So he was going to suck Phil’s cock. 

Clint opened his mouth and gave the head an experimental lick. It tasted of tangy sweat, and drew no response from Phil except that his toe stopped tapping and instead pressed hard against Clint’s knee. He didn’t know what that meant, but Phil hadn’t signaled ‘no’ or ‘stop’ so he kept going. Having his hands cuffed behind his back was making things difficult, but he had a fair amount of experience in this area, so he pressed his face close and got his tongue on the underside of Phil’s cock. Phil’s thigh twitched under his cheek, and Clint froze. 

“Get to work or else,” said the thug with the revolver, and he pressed it into Clint’s ear. 

Clint didn’t want his brains blown out, but he didn’t want to continue if Phil didn’t want him to.

“A goldfish could give a better blow job,” Phil mumbled above him, and Clint tried to glance up, but the gun jabbed into his ear again. Phil’s comment had been enough to let Clint know that he was still on board, and it also sparked Clint’s competitive impulse. ‘I’ll show him I know how to suck cock,’ Clint thought, and set to work. He licked around the head again, using broad swipes of his tongue, making it look good as well as, he hoped, feel good. Clint didn’t know what the guards would do if Phil didn’t get hard. Shoot them both, probably. 

It didn’t seem like that was going to be a problem, though, since he could feel Phil’s cock twitching under his attention. He opened his mouth wide and drew it in. First just the head, so he could lavish it with attention, licking and gently sucking, giving Phil time to get hard. Feeling Phil’s cock swell in his mouth was gratifying, and again he wished that the circumstances were different. If he didn’t need to hang onto his situational awareness, he’d spin a fantasy in his head. Nothing elaborate, just a little scenario where they were sharing a hotel room after an op, and Phil was having trouble sleeping. Clint would casually offer a blowjob, and Phil would consider, and then say, ‘Why the fuck not?’ It would start off business-like, like this was. Just getting the job done, but Clint would do such a good job that Phil grabbed his hair and shouted his name. 

Phil made a small noise, which brought Clint back to the here-and-now. He wished the communication wasn’t just one-way, but apart from tapping a message onto Phil’s cock with his tongue, which Clint wasn’t even sure he’d be able to manage, he couldn’t think of any way to ask Phil if things were all right. He’d stopped moving again, though, and after a second he felt Phil’s toe move against his knee. This time it rubbed up and down, tiny little movements that Clint hoped the guard would ignore, but again, enough to reassure Clint that Phil was okay with him continuing. 

So he started again, now inching down on Phil’s thick cock, taking as much of it as he could in his mouth. Phil’s toe kept rubbing his knee, so he found it easy to ignore the guards’ snickers and insults, and concentrate instead on the feel of the silky-smooth skin on his tongue. He worked the underside of Phil’s cock, trying to gauge from the pulses and twitches what Phil liked, what felt good. The situation was fucked-up beyond belief, but if he could give Phil a great orgasm out of it, then maybe…

‘No Barton, don’t even think about going there.’ Instead he hollowed his cheeks and sucked, then relaxed his throat muscles as much as he could, and sank down another inch. Above him, Phil made a small noise and the toe rubbing his knee started to move a little faster. Clint would have grinned if he didn’t have his mouth full. He went to town, sucking and bobbing his head, letting himself get a little sloppy, trying to position himself so that Phil could see his face, because he knew some guys liked that - liked to see his lips shiny with spit stretched around them. And Clint’s lips were stretched. Phil wasn’t overly long, but he was thick now that he was completely hard, filling Clint’s mouth completely and pressing his tongue down so that he could hardly move it to stroke the underside of Phil’s cock. 

Clint had another problem now: sucking Phil’s cock was turning him on, making him start to get hard. He didn’t know if the guards would do anything about that if they noticed, but he tried to keep his body curled in such a way that they couldn’t see his dick. There wasn’t much else he could do, not with his hand behind his back and his mouth full of Phil.

Under him, Phil’s hips shifted a tiny bit, and his thighs parted a little further. It was surely a sign that he was getting close, Clint thought, but just to be sure, Clint pulled part of the way off to give himself some breathing room and worked Phil’s cockhead for a minute, tonguing the slit and massaging the crown. Then, without any warning, he sank back down as far as he could, taking almost all of Phil’s length, and swallowed around it again and again. He could feel Phil’s thighs tense, and his toe went still, pressed into Clint’s knee so hard he was sure it was leaving a bruise. Clint dragged a long breath in through his nose and then started to bob fast, sucking hard, giving Phil as much hot, wet friction as he could.

Phil exhaled, hissing through his clenched teeth, and started to come. Clint swallowed. And swallowed and swallowed and swallowed and then couldn’t swallow any more, but Phil was still spurting thick, bitter come into his mouth. Clint pulled off, choking and coughing.

“Sorry,” he said, looking up at Phil, but the sound was lost under the guard’s jeering laughter. One of them kicked him in the stomach, making him double over and cough more. Phil strained forward on his chair and got a backhand across his face for it. 

“Now you want to protect your little whore? Was he that good? Maybe if you both behave, we’ll let you fuck him, next time. Or maybe I’ll stick this in his ass, instead of his ear, and make you watch.” The head guard waved his revolver in Phil’s face. They laughed themselves silly over that, and Clint, still curled up in a ball on the floor, looked for an opportunity. But the two henchmen still had their AKs, and Clint couldn’t see any way of escaping that didn’t end with him and Phil shot, so they’d just have to bide their time a little while longer. Providing amusement for the guards was an unfortunate consequence. At least he didn’t have an erection for them to notice any more.

“We’ll leave these two lovebirds alone for a while. Let them think about how much worse it’s going to get for them both if they don’t started to answer questions. Besides, I’m hungry,” the head guard said, stowing his revolver.

That little remark was meant to remind them that they wouldn’t be getting any food, Clint knew. These particular thugs-in-the-employ of Hydra were mid-grade. Not stupid, but not smart enough to know that leaving two SHIELD agents locked in a cell together was a big mistake. Clint carefully didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. Didn’t do anything to give away the hope he suddenly felt as the guards filed out and slammed and locked the door behind them.

Clint waited a couple of breaths, then uncurled. He saw Phil’s foot tapping by the leg of his chair and concentrated on reading the message C-A-M-E-R-A-S-? At least he assumed that the last set of taps was meant to be a question mark, because it wasn't a letter he recognized.

Clint lifted his head off the floor and shook it. "I checked my cell pretty thoroughly and there weren't any. Don't see any in here, either."

“Are you okay, Barton?” was the first thing out of Coulson’s mouth.

Clint swallowed. He could still taste Phil’s come in his throat. But now was not the time to think about what had just happened. Now was the time to get the fuck out of here.

“Fine. Just a little bruised. And in a second I’ll also have,” Clint grunted, “a dislocated left thumb.” Clint brought his hands around in front of himself, the handcuffs dangling from one wrist, and rolled onto his back. Then he grabbed his left thumb with his right hand and levered it back into place with a grimace. “Just as well they took away my bow, I guess. I wouldn’t be able to shoot properly now.” He rolled slowly and stiffly to his feet.

“So boss, what’s the play?”

“Can you think of a way to get the cuffs off my ankles?” Phil asked, busy with his own joint re-alignment. Clint heard the soft ‘pop’ and Phil hissed out his breath. Clint looked away, because it reminded him too much of the sound Phil had made when he came. He waited until he heard the rattle of handcuffs before he looked back. Phil was leaning to one side, examining the cuffs that chained his ankles to the legs of the chair heavy wooden chair.

“Uh, Coulson?”

“Yes?”

“I think I could probably smash the legs off, if you're okay with lying down on your side for a minute.” Clint mimed the move he had in mind. 

Phil glanced towards the door, calculating the odds of the guards coming back while he was in an awkward and vulnerable position. Vulnerable being relative, all things considered.

“Okay, let’s go for it.” Phil stuck his arm out to brace himself, and Clint grabbed the back of the chair and tipped it over. It took a lot more force than he expected to break the chair leg away from the seat, but once he’d done the first one, the second was easier, because he had a couple of pieces of kindling to use as a fulcrum. And now they were both armed. With heavy wooden clubs.

Then it was just a question of waiting until the bad guys came back, jumping them, knocking them out and taking their guns (and pants) and then fighting their way out of the castle-thing. Clint hot-wired a car, which Phil then drove to the safe-house where they called for backup, and extraction, and Phil pre-emptively put them both on medical leave.

“Even if we weren’t both going to be in medical for 48 hours observation, you said yourself that you can’t shoot your bow right now,” Phil explained calmly when Clint objected. “What’s the problem?”

The problem was having lots of time to sit around thinking about the feel of Phil’s cock in his mouth. Which was exactly what Clint didn’t need right now. What he got was two days in medical and then a week on ‘light-duty’ and absolutely no range time until his thumb was healed. They’d had exactly one conversation about it. When they were filing their post-mission reports from their hospital beds.

“How much uh, detail about our, uh… captivity do I need to include?” Clint asked, staring at his pad and trying hard not to blush.

“Just the broad strokes is fine. Unless you - “ 

“No, no. Broad strokes. Very broad.” Clint said, profoundly relieved that Coulson was okay with sweeping what had happened under the official rug, so that he wouldn’t have to spend several sessions talking to a psych counselor about how he felt about being forced to suck Phil Coulson’s dick at gunpoint.

Normally, after the first few days of enforced downtime, he’d go to Coulson and complain, make a pain in the ass of himself, camp out on the sofa in Coulson’s office for a couple of days, building a trebuchet out of popsicle sticks or some such, and Coulson’d shave a day or two off his range restriction, just to get him out of his hair. No, not just for that. Coulson knew that the doctors tended to be conservative in their estimates. He also knew Clint well enough to know how antsy he got when he couldn’t shoot, and was able to balance the benefits of full physical recovery against psychological stability in a way that the doctors looking at an x-ray couldn’t. Besides, Coulson knew that he wouldn’t do anything very stupid. Usually.

But since they’d both been released from the mandatory 48 hour observation after captivity, Clint had avoided Phil. If he had talked to the nice lady in psych, he would have told her that he needed some time to process what had happened. What he meant was, he needed some time to practice pretending that he wasn’t remembering what it felt like to have Phil Coulson’s cock in his mouth every time he looked at the man.

So he was keeping his distance. But Phil noticed. Of course Phil noticed.

Clint was in his quarters, reading, when there was a knock on the door. 

“Justa ‘sec” Clint shouted as he hauled himself up off his bunk, pulled on a t-shirt to go with the sweatpants he was wearing, and opened the door. To find Phil standing there in one of his perfectly tailored suits.

“May I come in?”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” Clint stepped back. “Don’t mind the…” he looked around. His quarters were actually fairly tidy. He’d done laundry yesterday, so where wasn’t a pile of socks and underwear in the corner, and he’d picked up all the trash just this morning when he’d been trying to find his… “What’s up boss? Mission?” he asked hopefully.

“No. We’re still on the bench for another few days.”

“Then, uh, what’s up?” Clint tried to hide his nervousness. He was making a point not to bounce on his heels or shift his weight from side-to-side like he wanted to. Instead, he forced himself to go still. Still like when he was up on a perch, waiting for a target. He looked at Phil and saw that Phil had seen him go still.

“Barton,” Phil started, and then his voice got softer. “Clint, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Clint answered automatically. Because he was. He wasn’t injured, he wasn’t bleeding, no one was trying to kill him, and he could think clearly. He was fine. But… this was Phil, so he asked, “What do you mean?”

“I… I haven’t seen much of you lately. Since we got back. That’s… unusual. Considering what… happened. I just needed - I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay with… everything.”

Clint looked down at the floor, because he sure as hell wasn’t willing to meet Phil’s eyes. Phil’s eyes which would be full of caring and compassion. He took a couple of seconds to decide what to say. How much to reveal. Because Phil was his friend and deserved a certain amount of honesty.

“I, uh… What happened was kind of… messed up. I just need some time to, uh, work through it.” Clint looked up. “But I will. Soon. And I won’t… that is to say I don’t anticipate any issues with us… working together. In the future I mean. Do you?” The last question was in a small, scared voice that Clint hated, but couldn’t help. He was terrified that Coulson wouldn’t want to work with him anymore after…

“Clint,” Phil said gently, “if what happened is… bothering you. If you need to talk to someone about it - “

’Shit,’ thought Clint. ‘The last thing I want is for Phil to tell someone what happened, and make me talk to psych about it.’ 

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s not… it’s not bothering me. It’s not that.” Fuck. Now he was stuck with telling Phil the truth, or at least part of it.

“Then what is it?”

Clint glanced up quickly. Long enough to take in the worry and compassion on Phil’s face. He looked down again. “I liked it. Okay? I liked sucking your cock.” Clint emphasized the word ‘your’ to make it clear what the issue was. “I mean, not with the gun to my head and all but, if things were different, I would… I mean, I just. I liked it, okay? A lot. And I need some time to deal with that. To put it away.” At the end of his halting speech he turned his back, not ready for Phil’s response.

Which was: “I liked it too.”

“Well, duh,” Clint said, “who doesn’t like a blowjob?”

“I’m pretty sure that under the circumstances, I would have hated one from anyone else. I liked it because it was you, Clint.”

Clint didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe, and for a minute there was complete silence in the small room. “What are you saying?” Clint finally asked.

“I’m saying that I… I have… feelings. For you. Have had for a while. Err… years. Two. Years.” Phil finished stammering through his sentence and fell silent. 

“Oh.”

Phil waited a while before speaking again. “To be honest I was expecting… Well I don’t know what I was expecting, really. But it was more than ‘oh.’ Don’t you have anything you want to ah, ask me? Or say?”

“Not until you get it over with,” Clint said, his voice tight.

“Get what over with?”

“The speech about how we’re both adults and professionals and even though we both want to, nothing can ever happen because of the regs. Or whatever.” Clint still had his back to Phil, and his shoulders had hunched up as if he was protecting himself from an anticipated blow.

“One day I’m going to sit you down and make you actually read the SHIELD procedure manual cover to cover,” Phil’s voice held fond exasperation. “There aren’t any regulations against dating your co-workers. It’s, ah, not uncommon for people who do this kind of work together to form… attachments.”

“Oh,” Clint said again, and then turned around. Phil was standing there looking… gorgeous. His eyes were soft and he had a slightly worried expression on his face. Clint wanted to reach out and smooth out the worry lines with his thumb. He clenched his fists by his sides instead. “So why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because,” the tips of Phil’s ears went pink, “because I was quite sure that you wouldn’t be interested in a relationship with your balding, middle-aged handler.”

Clint’s brain ground to a halt at the word ‘relationship’. He could understand that Phil thought he was hot. He was, he had on good authority from multiple sources, kind of hot. So he could get that Phil was on board with having his cock sucked again, and was maybe interested in being fuckbuddies or something like that. But what Phil was talking about was an actual relationship. With commitment and stuff. Or at least dating with a view to commitment and stuff, because, come on, this was Phil. Who was saying that he wanted to be with Clint. That couldn’t… that didn’t… Phil was standing there, blushing pink now, and had dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Oh, come here,” Clint said, and held out his arms, but otherwise didn’t move. Phil stepped into them and put his own arms around Clint, holding him tightly and laying his cheek against Clint’s. 

“I was terrified that they were going to shoot you,” Phil said quietly, and tightened his hold further.

Clint was trying to process the fact that Phil wanted… he wasn’t sure exactly what Phil wanted. Wasn’t sure what this meant or where it was going. Part of his brain was yelling that he had to find that out, right now, before he said something profoundly stupid based on a misunderstanding. Another part was reveling in the fact that he was being held in Phil’s strong arms, and he never wanted either of them to move, ever again. 

“Wouldn’t have minded, so long as you got away,” Clint said, his filters completely down.

“Don’t say that.” Phil pulled away enough to be able to look into Clint’s face. One hand cupped his cheek. “Don’t ever say that. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Clint. I care about you so much…” 

They were staring into each other’s eyes from inches away. Clint might have moved first, leaning in just a little to close the gap, then Phil’s lips were on his, warm and soft. The kisses started gently. Tentative brushes that slowly gave way to firmer presses that became careful explorations. Phil’s mouth opened, inviting Clint in. 

Kissing Phil was, incredibly, more erotic than sucking his cock had been. Because this time, Phil was an active participant. His tongue twined itself around Clint’s, stroking and caressing, full of promise. One of his hands was in Clint’s hair, and fuck that felt good. The other was sweeping up and down his back in long, firm, reassuring strokes. Phil pressed into him, and he could feel the twitch of Phil’s cock against his thigh. 

Phil wanted him. Phil wanted this. Phil was getting hard from kissing him. Clint was having trouble believing it all, despite the overwhelming evidence. Then Phil slid his hand under Clint’s t-shirt. Strong fingers sliding surely over his skin. Phil moaned into the kiss as if he’d been waiting his whole life to touch Clint like this. Clint was stunned. This was real. It was happening. 

Phil stopped. Drew back a little. Licked his reddened lips and swallowed. “I’m sorry, am I going to fast? We can slow down.”

And that was so typically Phil that Clint had to grin, suddenly reassured. “Are you offering to take me to dinner first?”

“If that’s what you want.” Phil’s eyes were serious. He was offering to take Clint out on a date, to woo him.

“Maybe later,” Clint said, and dove in for another kiss. Now that he was fully engaged, things heated up quickly. Clint slipped his arms under Phil’s suit jacket and got an appreciate shiver. He slid one of his thighs between Phil’s to give him something to rub his growing hard-on against, and Phil moaned.

“Yeah,” said Clint, pulling away from the kiss, “yeah, let me hear you. I want to hear how much you love this. I need to know.” Know that Phil wasn’t just grimly bearing it. Know that he was giving pleasure. Know that Phil was as far gone on him as he was on Phil. 

Phil took advantage of the break to tug suggestively at Clint’s t-shirt. “That is, if you want…”

“I want. Is it okay? Can we do this, here I mean?” They were in Clint’s quarters and it was four in the afternoon on a work day. If Phil was going to suddenly remember that he had a meeting with the Director or something, Clint wanted to know that now.

“It’s fine. That is, if you have, um…”

“Lube’s in my shaving kit. Do we need condoms?” There was a lot more wrapped up in the question than Clint realized when he asked it, but he was glad, when he saw Phil considering, that he had. 

“We’re both healthy, as of the blood tests five days ago. I’m fine without condoms if this is going to be… that is if…”

“If you’re asking me to go steady with you Phil, the answer’s yes,” Clint said, his eyes sparkling.

“Exclusive,” Phil clarified. “No one else.”

“If I can have you, I don’t want anyone else. Ever.” That was more than he’d meant to say, but the way Phil’s eyes lit up when he said it made it impossible to regret. 

“Clint,” Phil said, reaching for him. Clint smiled and kissed him and quickly and nimbly stripped him out of his suit. He could be remarkably efficient when he was suitably motivated, and this was definitely one of those times. He undid Phil’s belt and let his pants drop, then shoved the dark silky boxers down. He forestalled any comment or action on Phil’s part by reaching down to cup the thick, hard cock and rub it gently.

“God, Clint.”

“Is that good? Do you like that? Do you like my hands on you as much as you liked my mouth on you?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes Clint.”

“Good. Want to make you feel good, Phil. Want to see it this time. Want to know for sure. Want you to tell me how good it is.”

“Whatever you want. Anything. Clint, anything you want.”

“Want you naked in my bed. Want to take my time with you. With your body. Want to touch you everywhere. Drive you crazy. Then I want you to fuck me, Phil.”

“Yes.” Phil said, and Clint kissed him again, this time walking them both backwards until his calves hit the edge of his bunk. He tugged and they went down in a heap on the narrow mattress with Phil on top. For long minutes there was nothing but kissing and touching and slow gentle rubbing. Clint pushed his sweatpants down and kicked them off. Phil reached down to touch him, exploring Clint’s hard dick with his fingertips, and making him moan.

“Wanted to touch you. When we were… when they… Wanted so much to be able to touch you. Not necessarily like this, but just to let you know that it was okay. That we were okay,” Phil whispered into his ear.

“S’okay. The message came through.” Clint remembered Phil’s toe pressing hard against his knee.

“Good. I want… God, I want everything with you Clint.”

“Everything sounds pretty awesome, but can we start with you fucking me? ‘Cause I really want that.” 

Phil was looking at him with big round eyes. “I’m not dreaming, am I? If I am I don’t want to wake up.”

“Pretty sure you’re not dreaming, Phil. Want me to pinch you?” 

Phil smiled. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Clint had a wicked idea. He pulled Phil down to him, and kissed a spot low on his throat, then he took the skin between his teeth and nipped sharply. Phil just held on tighter and moaned softly. Encouraged, Clint sucked a hickey into Phil’s skin, taking his time with it, and finishing up with another sharp pinch of his teeth. 

“Ow,” Phil said softly. “Guess you’re right. Guess it’s not a dream.”

“That’s good, right?” Clint asked.

“That’s very, very good.” Phil kissed him again, and then his hands were all over Clint. Mapping, claiming, just as Clint had claimed him with the mark on his throat. Finally, just before Clint would have been reduced to begging, Phil’s fingers delved between his ass cheeks.

There was a brief interlude while Clint scrambled out of bed, located the bottle of lube, and then settled himself back next to Phil, who had taken the opportunity to find and turn off his phone. More kissing. More touching and rubbing and gasps and quiet moans. Phil’s fingers sliding into him felt fantastic. Phil pushing into him, hot and slick, while staring into his eyes was… was so good that Clint was afraid to blink, lest Phil disappear like in one of those movies about alternate dimensions. But he was there, right there, pressing into Clint and making him feel cared for and wanted in a way that he’d never experienced before. It brought him dangerously close to tears, and Phil must have noticed something because once he was all the way in, he stopped, and moved one hand to cup Clint’s cheek, and asked, “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect, Phil. Perfect.”

“Good. I want it to be perfect for you. I want you to know how much you mean to me. I’m sorry I was such a coward, not saying anything about how I felt because I was afraid you’d laugh at me.”

“Don’t be sorry. I was a coward too. I didn’t say anything either, even though I thought about it all the time. You just always seemed so… I don’t know, I just always thought you could do so much better than a half-educated sharpshooter.”

“You’re a lot more than that, Clint, and you know it.” Phil was using a little of his Agent voice, the one that said ‘I’m right and you know it so stop being an idiot.’ 

“If I am, it’s because of you. Because you always believed in me and helped me learn stuff and gave me the chance to show what I could do.”

“You deserved all those chances. You’re amazing, Clint, and I’m so glad…” Phil’s thumb stroked Clint’s cheek. “So glad we got here.”

“Me, too.” Clint pulled him down for another kiss, during which Phil started to move. Just a bit of a rocking motion at first, and then he started to pull out a little further on each long, slow thrust. All of Clint’s nerve endings were lighting up, the pleasure building and building, until he was amazed that it could feel any better, and yet it did. Phil’s hand moved from his cheek to his shoulder, gripping hard and using it for leverage as Phil fucked into him again and again. And that felt amazing. Phil’s strong, sure fingers digging into his skin, holding on while he took his pleasure from Clint’s body. 

“Yes,” Clint called out, not caring if Lubkowski, whose bunk was next door, heard them. “God, Phil, yes, that’s so good. So good.”

“God. I want…”

“Anything, Phil anything you want. Take it, it’s yours.”

“I want you to come. I want to see you. I want to see you come with my cock inside you.” Phil gasped out the words as he stroked into Clint with hard thrusts. 

“Just need a little - “ Clint tilted his hips up and pulled Phil closer; he wouldn’t be able to hold this position long, but it wouldn’t take long with the slide of Phil’s hard cock across his happy button and a little friction from Phil’s belly on his dick and… “Yeah, like that. Hard. Please, hard.” Feeling Phil plunge into him, use him hard, hold him tight. Fuck him… so good. Heat rolled through his groin to his dick which jumped and pulsed, shooting between their bodies. Clint could feel his ass clenching down on Phil’s cock, his whole body tingling, hypersensitive, raw and needy. 

“Yes,” Phil was saying, “oh, god, yes,” And he drove in deep and clutched Clint’s shoulder and let out a long vowel sound.

“Yeah,” Clint said, wrapping his arms around Phil’s back to stop him from trying to pull out right away. “That’s it, yeah.” 

Phil dropped his head onto Clint’s shoulder.

“God. Fuck, that was…”

“Yeah. It was pretty spectacular.” For a couple of minutes they just lay there, breathing hard, stroking each other softly. “Can you stay, for a bit?”

“Yes, off course. I’m not going to have sex with you and then run off.”

“No, I didn’t mean. Fuck, I don’t know what I meant. I’m sorry. I really don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” Phil turned his head and kissed Clint’s shoulder. 

“How do we go from being friends and co-workers to being lovers? That’s, uh, that’s what we are now, right?” Clint felt himself blushing a little, embarrassed to be even asking the question, let alone using the word ‘lovers’.

“Yes.” Phil said, kissing his shoulder again. “Yes. That’s what we are.” He was quiet for a bit. “How would you feel about moving in with me?” When Clint didn’t say anything he said, “Sorry. Too fast?”

“No, it’s not that. I’m just. How can you... Are you sure?”

Phil hitched himself up so that he could look into Clint’s face. “I’m sure I want us to live together, yes. We’re away on missions so much, we won’t have a lot of time together, alone. And after that last one… Well, it reminded me how dangerous this job is. How I could lose you any day. I’m kicking myself for not telling you how I felt earlier. I want to make the most of whatever time we have together, Clint. Move in with me?”

“If you’re sure, then, uh, yeah. Okay. I mean it’s not like I’m particularly attached to this place.” He flapped a hand to indicate his quarters.

“Good. My bed’s bigger, too.”

“Yeah, that’ll certainly come in handy.” Clint grinned and Phil laughed, then kissed him again.

“Are you going to freak out if I tell you I love you?”

“Jesus, Phil!”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Fuck.” Clint took a deep breath, trying to come to terms with the fact that in the past hour, his entire life had taken a ninety-degree-turn into unknown territory. “Okay, I’m ready. Hit me.”

Instead Phil kissed him, hot and wet and deep. Eventually he pulled back, and dropped a light kiss on Clint’s lips, then one on his cheek, then on his earlobe. “I love you, Clint Barton,” he whispered.

Clint cleared his throat, but his words still came out hoarse. “I love you too, Phil. I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ereshai for the super-quick beta!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Jo Mathieson](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


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